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70 - Horizon Dancer

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Suni

We were hardly in Lekarsos more than a day before Timaios, the colony’s head courier, was brought in to record the official account of our misadventures.

It was, all in all, an incredibly dry affair. Even for someone like me who appreciated the necessity of facts, numbers, and concise language in scientific reports. At the Governess’ urging, Timaios had recorded our expedition gone awry as facts and details, stated as plainly as possible. No embellishment, no drama. Not even a sprinkle of tension—even when those things had been present in the events.

It’d been enough to drive Senesio mad. He’d fought and bickered with Timaios and the Governess at every turn. And, in the end, even I had to admit, it was incredible how such extraordinary events could be made to sound so painfully dull.

That’d been three weeks ago now. The official account had been signed, sealed, and sent to the capital by ship. With the Stormcrow and the Panagia wrecked in the wilderness, and the Welkin disabled at Clearwater Outpost, there hadn’t been any other way. Well, there’d been the Needlethroat, but it was hardly ready to cross an ocean. It’d been in good enough shape to get us home but, as it turned out, the repairs hadn’t been finished when we’d taken it, and that was before the rear was bitten off by the komodo. Demetrias had been overseeing repairs and as soon as they were completed, he, the other survivors, and I would be off to the capital.

In theory, we could have gone on the ship with the official account, but the ocean was a dangerous thing, all the more so with it being storm season in Lekarsos. Safer then to send the official account ahead, then have all the key witnesses follow on the Needlethroat once it was ready. Not to mention, there was no way anyone was depriving Senesio of his grand entrance to the capital aboard the skyship he’d so proudly stolen.

Elpida hadn’t been keen on leaving either. Not with Oz still unaccounted for. He was out there, somewhere, she’d insisted. Would show up any day now.

Thunder rolled from outside, shaking the windows of the building. Rain lashed against the glass, driven near sideways in gusty sheets. It made for a gloomy atmosphere, but I found I sort of enjoyed it. It was relaxing, in a way. The whole world seemed, finally, to slow down.

All I needed was Rupert, perched outside the window above my desk. But he was nowhere to be found, and I couldn’t blame him in a storm such as this.

The door to the study opened and Theo strode in, returning from the courier post. A wide-brimmed hat was tucked under her arm and her coat was still wet with rain.

“Any response from the capital?” I asked.

“Not even confirmation they received the report,” Theo said, then pulled the door shut behind her and collapsed into a waiting chair. She reached for a cup of rum and as she took a sip, I watched her eyes slide around the study. As the biggest room in the college, it made sense to keep everyone here.

“Looks like we’re going to be stuck in here for a bit longer, at least,” she said.

I’d always loved this space and since we’d returned it’d become something of a refuge. Elpida had thought it best we avoid the public. The fallout from Bospur’s attacks was going to be bad enough without rumors spreading. The last thing anyone needed was the whole colony getting fired up and clamoring for war. In a war between empires, no one won.

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“This place ain’t so bad,” Maritza said from the hammock she’d hung at the back of the room. “We’re warm, we’re dry, and most of all, we’re well fed with food that’s not hardtack.” She scooped a half-eaten kebab from the table and eyed it, then shrugged and dug in. “I won’t complain about riding out my final days in the navy here.”

“So, you’re really done, then?” Theo asked.

Maritza swallowed and nodded. “Papers were signed and sent with the ship. Soon as we’re back on the mainland and done with the emperor, I’m headed home.” She smiled at that, her sun-worn face wrinkling in a way I hadn’t seen much of in the days prior. “Back to my husband, back to my boys. The most excitement I’m planning on is maybe taking up knitting.”

“You? Knitting?” Theo choked back a laugh. “Now that would be a sight to see.”

“Yeah.” Maritza laughed as well. “Ain’t that a thought?” She nodded at the new insignia sewn on to Theo’s chest. “And what about you, Sergeant? What are your plans?”

It was a long overdue promotion. From what I’d seen in the Far Wild, Theo deserved that and more. There was more emotion than I could decipher in her eyes as she looked down at the insignia. Thinking of Sergeant Kyriakos, no doubt. She blinked and the moment passed.

“Well, Suni helped me with the letters,” she said, giving me a nod, then turning a solemn gaze to the bound stack of sealed envelopes on the table. Five in all, one for each member of the expedition who hadn’t made it.

Aristos. Leda. Sergeant Kyriakos. Gabar. Even one for Captain Barba, though that one had been a bit awkward to write, all things considered.

“You don’t have to do it by yourself, you know,” Maritza said gently. “Take the letters to the families, I mean.”

Theo shook her head. “No, I do. I owe them that much.”

It’s what Sergeant Kyriakos would have done, I knew. And Theo felt an obligation to his memory. To live up to the leader he’d been. That much had become clear as we’d worked on the letters together. Hard things to word, they’d been. The only hope was they’d bring some small measure of peace to the families.

“It’s getting too somber in here, damnit,” Theo said, then threw back a long swig of rum. “What about you, Suni? What’s your grand plan once we get out of this hellhole?”

“Visit my parents, first and foremost. And then, I... don’t know. Haven’t really given it any thought, I guess. Been too focused on... ” I looked down to the book beside me. The writing inside was sloppy and rough. Scratched out in some areas, rewritten in others, and far from complete. A Gentleman Adventurer’s Journeys in the Far Wild had been the title Senesio had suggested, but that hardly did it justice. It wasn’t Senesio’s story, it was all of ours. Something that gave the credit that was deserved to each member of the expedition. Something that did right by their memories.

“I’ll finish our story first,” I said, looking up at Maritza and Theo. “And figure out everything else after that. But probably I’ll return to my studies here.” I spread my arms out. “Still a lot to learn, you know.”

And I would, not that it was going to be simple. My time in the Far Wild had changed me. There was no denying that. The woman I’d been before was gone. The question was, what did the woman who’d replaced her want? To go with Senesio to the capital? To put Lekarsos behind her and never look back? Probably that was the sensible thing to do. And yet... I wasn’t sure I could. Or wanted to, for that matter.

Thunder rolled again from outside and the already rain-gray light was darkened further as what must have been a cloud passed overhead. Except, its shadow was moving too fast to be a cloud.

“What in the... ?” I rose and pressed up against the window. “There’s a skyship outside!” I shouted, then turned for the door.

“Here?” Maritza asked, rolling from her hammock and following me.

I took the stairs quick as I could, then jogged outside. The rain was coming down sideways, making the porch a pretty poor form of cover.

“Greetings, my good friends!” a voice shouted. Rain lashed against my face, ran into my eyes, but I ignored it, squinting up toward the skyship that was in the process of landing in the middle of the college’s courtyard.

It was the Needlethroat, apparently fully repaired. Senesio stood at its rail and gave a dramatic bow, then twirled his hand in a flourish.

“The moment you’ve all been waiting for has arrived!” he shouted down through the storm.

“The hell are you doing?” Maritza shouted.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Senesio laughed back. “But here, see for yourself!” He gestured toward the rear of the ship where a tarp was dangling off of the rail. It flapped in the wind and rain.

“That was your cue!” Senesio shouted to Demetrias, then shook his head. “Come on, come on! Untie the rope!”

Several long moments passed with us staring up into the rain. Then, finally, the tarp fell. It slipped along the ship’s hull, then got caught in the wind and whipped off into the storm.

“Son of a swindler,” Theo said. “He actually did it.”

Maritza cursed, but I found myself suppressing a chuckle as I read the fresh lettering painted on the side of the skyship.

Horizon Dancer.